Christopher Wilde and the Accursed Mirror
by Death and Terror
Summary: Christopher Wilde had lost all hope of having an extraordinary life in America, when suddenly, on his 13th birthday, he is accepted into the Ascullis School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. There he learns magic, secrets, and the truth about who he really is.
1. Chapter 1

Christopher Wilde and the Accursed Mirror

I: Prophecy

Author's Note: Okay, I should explain why I haven't updated Marauders. My writing computer is really screwed up right now and I can't do anything with it. So, I've begun writing this on _this_ computer. It's complicated, but until I get my other computer fixed, no Marauders. : ( Sorry. In the meantime, enjoy Christopher's journey, which I believe will be far more interesting. Also, sorry it's so short. I just needed a prologue for now...

The day was July 14th, 1978. The moon was high above the two figures that stood amidst a thick forest, shrouded in shadows. One held a long, thin wand in its hand, raised and pointed at the other, whom was holding up its hands, which were thin, fine, and feminine. The figure that held up its hands let out a sob in a wavering, female voice. An indistinguishable accent was unmistakably thick in the woman's words, but she was perfectly understandable, even with her cracked syllables.

"Why must you follow _him_?" she asked, darkly emphasizing her last word. The other figure let out a hoarse laugh, followed by his response, which was in a deep voice.

"I follow _him_," he said, emphasizing as well, "because he promises far more than _your_ people do. Besides, I have a certain… incentive… but this I cannot tell you. It's far too secret. Now if you wouldn't mind telling me what it is you so desperately called me here to say?"

"I cannot speak on command, you foul traitor! _He_ will hear of this, you mark my words!" The woman reached into her robes and withdrew her own wand, which was much more elegant than the man's, and she waved it resolutely, as though it was her last action and she wanted it to count. A jet of red light shot from the end, but the man rose his own wand and shouted, "_Protego_!" The red jet bounced off of him and hit a tree somewhere to his left.

"Not on command, you say?" he asked, eyeing the woman hungrily. He waved his wand and muttered "_Incarcerous_." Thick ropes that had appeared out of thin air bound the woman tightly around her arms and legs, sending her to the floor in seconds. "Well, if you can't speak on command, perhaps I ought to loosen your _tongue_! _Crucio_!" The woman writhed in pain and anguish as the spell blazed through every vein in her body. The man cackled as he watched her face cloud with tears. Her hood was thrown back and her long, lustrous hair was visible, black as the night, and her eyes… those beautiful blue eyes.

"I… will not… crack…!" she managed, her voice showing obvious terror.

"You will, dear woman…" the man lifted the spell, realizing that it would all be useless if she were dead. He stared up at the sky as he contemplated a plan. Mars was unusually bright, yet the Moon was dark and invisible. "Now," said the man, who had turned and grasped the woman's chin, pulling her face close to his, "speak, woman!"

"I cannot," she muttered sadly. It was as though she wanted to, but honestly could not. The man only scoffed and glared at her.

"You lie. All Seers can see on command! Now speak the Prophecy of my master before I kill you!" The man's wand-bearing hand flew out towards the woman, sending out a pulse of energy that knocked her flat on the ground, her face in the soft earth beneath.

"I… here comes something…" said the woman, struggling to get up. The man lifted her bonds, watching her eagerly, his face still concealed beneath his hood. The woman then spoke in a voice different from her own, dark and hoarse like the man's. "_On the night of the new moon, in the year before the turning of the decade, in the middle of July, a powerful entity will be born. This being will be able to choose his own path, light or dark, untouched by destiny. Its choices will change the world, but beware: gift is not without conflict. The being __**must**__ choose, and once it does, all who are associated with the being will be affected. The world will be shaped by this being's decision…_" The woman collapsed back onto the earth, gasping for air. She looked up into the shadowed eyes of the cloaked man. He gave a disappointed scoff and raised his wand.

"What kind of Prophecy is that…?" he asked, pointing his wand at the woman's chest, which was heaving up and down quickly as her heartbeat quickened.

"It is the prophecy that you wished for…" The woman glared at the man who held her at wand point as though her saying this would satisfy him.

"It makes no sense… a being able to choose his own path? We can all choose our own paths. And a choice between light and dark? It's not even worth examining. You have failed, Seer. _He_ will not be happy…" The man raised his wand.

"You are the one who will be punished…" said the woman. The man scowled and pointed his wand at her heart.

"You know, you didn't used to be so annoying…" he muttered as he directed his wand at her heart. The forest bore witness to a bright green flash that night, and the face of the woman, which bore a satisfied smile as the light left her sparkling eyes…


	2. Chapter 2

2: The Muggle-Born

The sun rose on the morning of July 15th, 1991, and Christopher Wilde sat staring out his bedroom window. The quiet suburb of Hillman's Dale was just as uneventful as it had ever been. Christopher's home sat at the apex of a cul-de-sac, giving him a good view of Deli Place, the pleasant ("Boring," as he had said several times before) street within the gated community. It was a long street, stretching unusually past seven groups of houses before reaching another road. Mr. Tachmanks was smiling merrily as he took the trash out to the garbage cans on the curb, most likely humming a tune as he did so. Chris scowled and ran his hand through his black hair, which was hanging low over his left eye at the moment.

His birthday was today, his thirteenth, in fact, and all hope of an extraordinary life had left him. He had resolved that there was something strange about the world around him, and he had always hoped that he was a part of it. If something hadn't happened by now, he figured it never would. Christopher had become depressed in the week preceding this one, beginning exactly when he had received his middle school's registration notice. His father had put off filling it out for some reason, but Chris suspected it was to make him feel better. Either that or he had been to busy and forgot about it.

There was a knock at the door. Christopher jumped at the sudden noise, turning to face the door. With a slow creak, it opened to reveal Christopher's father, Jason Wilde, who bore two wrapped packages and a smile. His brown hair was specked with a few gray ones, and his square face was wide with joy. His deep hazel eyes were swimming with pride. His eye color was a source of mystery in the family, as his eyes were hazel, as were his wife's, yet his son's were an odd, reddish color. Chris sighed as the man entered the room and laid the two parcels on his son's bed, patting the boy on the back as he sat down beside them.

"Happy birthday, Chris," said Jason. He grinned and nodded at the presents beside him, "Come on, now. Open them!" Christopher frowned and looked at his father's eager face.

"You didn't have to, Dad…" he muttered solemnly. Ever since his mother had died, money had been tight. It was all his father could do to keep the nice house they lived in, and just a little more to keep them fed. As a result, Chris didn't have many material possessions, and thus he didn't feel a need for anything that wasn't essential.

"Oh, don't worry about that, son," Jason said, smiling merrily, "I thought you could use something nice on your thirteenth birthday." Chris noticed a strange tone in his father's voice, like he knew something that Christopher didn't.

"Alright." Chris moved over to the packages and turned the top one on its side, looking for a seam. It was like any other present he had seen before: long, thin, and rectangular. Once he had torn it open, he found a strange surprise. A note affixed on the front of it. His father obviously wouldn't put a note on something he had given him.

"Oh, that one's from a friend of mine from work. He said you'd find it useful… I'm not quite sure what it is. What does the note say?" Christopher's father watched his son eagerly as he tore the note off and looked at it closely.

_Dear Christopher Wilde,_

_I believe that, when school comes around, this will be most useful to you. I'm not sure anyone else at your school will have one. Use it wisely._

_Sincerely,_

_Eddiger Hall_

Christopher tore the box open and looked at its contents. A small, wooden box was in it, engraved with a silver bird that was fading with age. The other half of the box was filled with tissue paper that Christopher quickly searched for other objects. It was devoid of anything, so he turned back to the box that his father was now admiring. The two of them took a deep breath and tried to open the box, only it remained shut. Chris put all of his strength into prying the lid of the box off, but he had no more luck than he had the first time he tried. With a resigned sigh, he tossed the box onto his bedside table, turning to his father's gift.

The package was the same, rectangular shape, and when Chris pulled the wrapping paper off, it was another plain white box made of cardboard. Christopher smiled and took the top of it off, gazing at the contents of it. A few books lay organized at the top, and beneath them was a photograph of his entire family, from him, his father, and his mother, to his various aunts and uncles and their children. It was a large picture and took up the entire bottom half of the box. A sad pulse erupted in Christopher's heart when he saw his mother smiling up at him, holding a smaller, younger version of himself in her arms, and his father with his arm around her, gazing proudly at whoever decided to peek at the photograph.

"Dad…" Chris muttered, trying to keep his voice as normal as possible. It was difficult to manage with the lump in his throat that had appeared the moment he saw his mother.

"I know, but I thought you would appreciate it…" His father looked at the chair beside the window distractedly. "You know, one thing I never understood about you, Chris, is that if you think this suburb is so boring, why do you always watch it so closely?" Christopher froze for a moment, attempting to choose the right words to respond with.

"Well, honestly, I kind of hoped that something interesting would happen one day…" said Chris, moving over to the window to peer out. "Like that…" His eyes were wide with disbelief, and just as he said those words, a large screech owl zoomed toward the house, colliding with the closed window. Chris opened the window so that the owl could enter on its second attempt.

On its left leg it bore a letter with an official looking wax seal, which it held out to Chris as soon as it perched on the windowsill. His father didn't seem surprised by this little event at all, but Christopher didn't notice with all of the excitement. He untied the small string that held the letter to the owl's leg and patted the bird's head as he took the envelope. The owl cooed happily and flew out into the blue sky again. Chris thought it strange that not a single one of his neighbors was outside, not even the college-age daughter of Mr. Benedacci, who always sunbathed in the front yard at around this time.

"What does it say?" asked Christopher's father. His tone of voice was rather casual, as though he was leading Chris toward a present that he had hidden.

"It says, well it's addressing is really direct… it says 'Mr. Christopher Wilde, Deli Place, Hillman's Dale, CA'…" Chris pulled the lip of the envelope open and pulled out the slip of paper inside, spilling several others onto the floor, which his father quickly collected.

"Well, this letter says, let me see… it says:

_Dear Christopher Wilde,_

_You have been selected to attend the Ascullis School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. You have been automatically enrolled, and we happily await your attendance come August. Lists of required school supplies, books, and uniform are enclosed within the envelope. Have a nice day!_

_Sincerely_

_Phillip Malgius, Ascullis Headmaster_

"So… I've been… accepted… into this… school…?" Chris asked aloud, staring at the letter in disbelief. He scanned it several more times, then read I thoroughly once more and collapsed onto his bed. This had to have been some elaborate prank. Magic wasn't real… it couldn't be… if it was, surely people would know about it, and surely things around the world would be much more easily solved… of course there wasn't magic. Someone just had a lot of time over vacation and decided to train an owl and think up a story. Yeah, that was it. Someone was messing with him.

"Here, Chris, read this," said his father, handing him one of the slips of paper that had fallen from the envelope.

_Dear Christopher Wilde,_

_It has come to our attention that you are of Muggle parentage (that is to say, non-magical). We assure you that this is no hoax, and we would greatly appreciate your attendance. A representative of our school will arrive at your home sometime soon to demonstrate what you would learn should you attend, and he will assist you in obtaining your supplies, as well as informing you of how to get to Ascullis. Thank you for your time,_

_Phillip Malgius_

So, somebody would be here soon to demonstrate what he would be learning. That would mean that somebody would arrive in his home to show him magic. Real magic. He suspected that it was more than making flowers appear from your sleeves. Chris remained silent for several moments before seizing the other papers that had come out of the envelope.

_List of Required Books for First Term Students:_

_Standard Book of Spells, Vol. 1-3 by Miranda Goshawk_

_Magic Creatures of the Wizarding World: American Edition by Harold Weltz_

_Hedgehogs to Hedge clippers: A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Wanda Hollum_

_An Introduction to Charms by Helen Bevelle_

_Defenses Against Darkness by Arnold Verandez_

_Bubbling Brews: Grade One Potions by Gerard Fialco_

_Magical Plants of the Calm Nature by Marianne Kowaltz_

_List of Required Supplies and Uniform_

_One Pewter Cauldron, Standard_

_One Wand_

_Several Pairs of Robes, Pref. Madam Timinny's_

_One Set of Potion Vials…_

Chris lost interest in the lists and turned to his father with a hopeful look on his face. Jason Wilde smiled happily and stood up, stepping over to the window to watch for the representative who was to arrive soon. Christopher grinned and went to do his chores in the meantime.

Half an hour later, Chris was sitting on the wooden porch in front of his house, watching the quiet cul-de-sac eagerly. His neighbors were still suspiciously absent from their yards, yet it didn't strike Christopher Wilde as strange anymore. In fact, the only thing he was paying attention to was the horizon. While he stared down the empty street, a figure sat down beside him to watch with him. This figure was tall, thin, and wearing a pair of jeans buckled with a brown leather belt, a black shirt with a band's name on the chest, and thin-rimmed glasses. His brown hair was done back in a ponytail and he gave off an air of intense enthusiasm.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, brushing a lone strand of hair from his face.

"Well… you!" Chris said, standing up abruptly. The other person chuckled as he stood up, holding out a hand to greet Christopher formally.

"Hello, Chris! I'm Professor David Melbourne, but you can call me Dave. Or Professor Dave, or Professor Melbourne if you want. I'll answer either way," Professor Melbourne said, grinning as he shook the hand of the young teenager.

"I… well, you know my name, I suppose… oh, come in!" said Chris, ushering the man into the house. Professor Melbourne looked around the small living room and, seeing a lack of chairs, pulled out a long, thin wand made of wood. He gave a small little flick and conjured a beanbag chair out of nowhere, throwing himself down comfortably into it.

"So, what would you like to know?" he asked, looking up at Christopher with a beaming smile. Chris' father leaned against the counter in the kitchen, which was not separated from the living room. Chris thought for a moment and began with a few easy questions.

"What kind of things am I going to learn?" he asked. Professor Melbourne thought for a moment before answering this question.

"Well, that's a little too general of a question, but I think I can answer it all the same. You'll be taking many subjects while at Ascullis, and they are Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures. There are also little clubs that you can join if you so desire, but they won't teach you anything. So, what else do you want to know?" Professor Melbourne asked simply.

"What do you teach?" Chris asked.

"Oh, I teach Charms. It's one of the best subjects there, in my opinion, because it's so much fun! Especially when I teach it. All of my students really enjoy the class, so I'm sure you'll have fun. What else?" said Dave.

"Where do I get supplies? How much will everything cost?" asked Christopher, feeling a little remorse at his lack of money. Would it prevent him from being able to go to this school?

"Oh, don't worry about the money… we don't expect Muggle-born students to have any wizard money. So, we have this little fund where we give you a little bank account and you can withdraw only so much at a time, so that you don't go and blow it. But don't worry about getting your supplies this year; I've taken the liberty of doing all of that for you. I do, however, feel a little bad that you don't get to see Broxeford… I think it'll be easier for you to navigate in your second year, though," Dave Melbourne said, conjuring a set of books and several other objects that were on Christopher's lists. The sets of robes all flew over to him and cut the excess length from themselves, somehow knowing his preference of 'slightly long' sleeves.

"Will I learn how to make objects do that?" Christopher asked, watching as one pair of robes leapt off of his body, being replaced by another seconds afterward.

"Eventually. Not this year though. It's actually really complicated magic. I only make it look easy because I'm _very _adept at it, and that is why I teach." Melbourne swept his wand and all of the objects began to pack themselves into a large trunk that he had just conjured.

"Well, all right. What _will_ I learn this year?" Chris asked, hoping to see something incredible.

"Uh, nothing _too_ extravagant. We try not to overload first years. I mean, you are older than the British first years, so you can handle more… well, I'll show you some. You'll learn how to do this-" He made stack of magazines fly around the room "-and you'll learn how to do this-" He made the color of the carpet change to pink for a few minutes, then turned it back to a dull tan color. Chris smiled contently and looked at the teacher.

"So, how long do I go?" Chris asked what he believed to be an obvious question.

"Well, you have five years of school, I think… They're talking about expanding it… and each year is a full school term of your Muggle schools, you know, until Summer Vacation, and then you're back for another year. That just continues until you come of age, which is your last year." Melbourne made a mug appear out of thin air, and as he spoke it began to fill itself with coffee.

"Okay. Well, what are some of the restrictions of magic?"

"Restrictions. There are quite a few, you know. First of all, we can't use magic in front of Muggles, save for those who know about magic like your dad here. However, outside of school, underage wizards can't use magic at all," Christopher frowned sadly, sighing with disappointment, "_unless_ you're in a dangerous and/or life threatening situation. But, once you turn seventeen, you're free as a bird… aside from the No-Muggles law." Melbourne took a long, pointed sip of his coffee.

"Okay… are there any sports at Ascullis?"

"Yes, there are! There's Quidditch, which is pretty much the only sport we have, but it's a damn good one! Everybody, and I mean _everybody_, follows Quidditch. It's really intense, and the games can last forever. They aren't even timed. Well, you'll learn more about it when you get there, so I'll leave some surprises for then." Melbourne smiled and took another sip of coffee, making the mug refill with a tap of his wand.

"Well, how do I get there?" Christopher asked finally. The teacher stalled this question.

"Oh, before I answer that, I almost forgot something. Here we go," Professor Melbourne waved his wand yet again, but this time a large cage floated into the room through an open window. Within the cage, Chris saw what had to be one of the largest, blackest owls he had ever seen. In truth, it looked more like a black falcon than an owl, but the important features were still somewhat owl-like.

"This is your messenger owl… I haven't named him, so give him one. But don't voice anything until you decide, because it responds to the first name you give." Melbourne held out the cage to Chris, who received it and stared into the eyes of the great bird within it. It stared back silently, obviously waiting for something to happen. Christopher had to think for a few minutes, but he finally came up with a name he thought suitable for the large bird.

"I'll have to call you… Thade." Chris nodded, content with the name, and the owl chirped happily, eager to serve its new owner. Its eyes now darted around the room silently.

"Now, what was it you had asked me before?" Melbourne asked, tossing Christopher a small satchel full of heavy coins, which he assumed was the leftover money from his shopping. He pocketed it immediately and looked at the teacher.

"How do I get to Ascullis?" he asked.

"Oh, that's easy… by train, of course."


	3. Chapter 3

3: The 7 O' Clock Express

Christopher stood before the entrance to the Gastello Hall Station at exactly 6:40 a.m. on the twelfth of August, taking a deep breath as he took in his surroundings. The station was perched on top of a hill at the very edge of the small town of Gastello Hall, which was very still and quiet, most likely still asleep. The building was hardly larger than any other train station Chris had seen in his life, the only difference being that its tracks led out on either side of the hill, suspended by stone archways.

He adjusted his grip on his trunk. His father looked at his watch anxiously. The hours were displayed on a little sign hanging in the glass doors in front of them. 8 a.m. – 3 a.m., yet Professor Melbourne had clearly instructed them to arrive before seven o'clock. Suddenly, a man arrived at the door and opened them politely.

"Your first year?" he asked without explanation. Chris took a second to comprehend this and gave a short "Oh," of understanding.

"Yeah… just turned thirteen…" Chris smiled weakly and walked with his father at one side, the kind man on the other. The man smiled back and stopped his stride suddenly beside a bathroom. Finding this hardly the time for him to be using the restroom, he turned to look impatiently to see an 'Out of Order' sign on the door.

"Right through here. Another wizard will assist you from there," said the man, gesturing towards the door. Chris wore a disbelieving look on his face, but bade his father farewell all the same and stepped through the door. Against the far wall was a man who looked like he was barely twenty years of age.

The bathroom around Christopher looked hardly out of order. In fact, every surface he could see was glinting with cleanliness. The man who was leaning against the wall didn't even look up from the newspaper he was reading. Instead, he rapped quickly on the door of the stall beside him, causing the one beside Christopher to open outwards, unlike other stall doors.

"Flush it," the man muttered, returning his full attention to the newspaper. Chris noticed that all of the pictures on the pages of the paper were moving. An important looking man in a suit gestured for calm as he spoke at a podium. Deciding not to test the man's patience, he walked into the stall and looked at the toilet. There was no water in the bowl, so the idea of the man rushing in to give him a swirly and shout, "Ha, we got you good, didn't we?" was gone. Chris took a deep breath, reached out slowly, and pushed the lever down slowly.

What happened next was quite strange. Instead of seeing water swirl down the sides of the toilet bowl, as he had expected, he felt the room start to spin. As it did, it seemed that little streaks of color rushed down the walls in a spiral pattern, as though covering the scene of the bathroom with that of a subway platform, which indeed was what he now stood amidst. Chris peered around at all of the people around him; nobody seemed surprised or in the least bit shocked by his sudden appearance. His weird looks did catch attention, so he hurried off to the train nearby, which looked like any other express train he had seen, much like the station.

Once he had pushed his way through the throng of magical families rushing this way and that, he had reached the threshold of the train, which presented another surprise. Instead of the typical train interior of several seats all crammed together against the walls, the inside of the train was much like an old steam train, and a quite spacious one at that. On either side of him were rows of compartments with sliding doors and blinds. Most of the ones he saw were full, up until he got to the very end of the section. Christopher stepped in and claimed the compartment, stuffing his luggage up on the rack above his seat, sitting beside the window, and setting Thade beside him.

A few minutes later, the door slid open and a thin, black boy fell in. His hair was done into dreadlocks that fell around his head in a fashion that reminded Chris of a mop. The boy looked up at Chris and grinned, holding out his hand as he stood up.

"Hey! I'm Scott. Scott Eston. You?" he asked as they shook hands. Chris returned a smile and attempted to flatten his hair as Scott put up his trunk.

"Christopher Wilde. Nice to meet you," Chris said, standing up to help his new acquaintance. They eventually got the trunk to stay and Scott turned to him with a slightly morbid expression on his face.

"Wilde…? Are you related to Astor Wilde?" he asked.

"Astor Wilde? Who? No, my parents are Muggles… well, I really only have my dad since my mom passed, but his name is Jason." Chris' smile faded when he mentioned his mother. Scott patted his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.

"Sorry, man. Well, let's get off this depressing topic. Muggle-born, you say? I hear they're some of the best magical fellows around! Most of those pureblood snobs refuse to think so, though, but don't listen to them," Scott said, grinning as he popped a red jellybean into his mouth. He offered Christopher a handful of beans, which he gladly accepted.

"What kind are these?" he asked, eyeing an oddly colored bean that sat beside his middle finger. Scott smiled and wiped a lock of hair from his face.

"Bertie Botts! They're _Every Flavored_ beans. And they mean it!" Scott said, pointing to the bean Chris was looking at. "Try that one and tell me if you're not convinced." Chris obliged, then attempted to open the window as he gagged on it.

"Putrid!" he gasped, trying his best not to retch.

"Pus flavored. Coincidentally, that's the first flavor I ever got, too. I know to avoid them. Some of the gross flavors actually appeal to my brother though. He stockpiles toenail flavored ones." Scott laughed as Chris' vomit control was set back even further.

"That's disgusting!" Chris replied, sniffing every bean before putting them in his mouth.

"That's my brother. His name is Gregory. Avoid him if you can, but he _is_ useful sometimes… he's a third year now. He's in Canis." Scott leaned back in his seat comfortably.

The door slid open again and a girl popped her head into the compartment. Her long, mahogany hair fell over her face, appearing very messy. She looked like she had just checked every compartment in the train and ran a lap or two around it. The girl's hazel eyes looked exasperated and tired as they darted from Chris to Scott.

"Do you mind if I sit in here?" she asked, shooting Chris a frustrated glance. He shrugged.

"Go ahead. The more the merrier." He nodded at Scott, who grinned and helped her with her trunk. The girl plopped down beside Chris and leaned back against the wall, letting out a thankful sigh. Chris shot Scott a silent stare, getting a simple shrug in return.

"I should introduce myself. I'm Kayla Gaines!" she held out her hand and shook with Chris and Scott, who smiled in return.

"I'm Scott Eston," said Scott, offering her some of his beans. She took three and turned to Chris, who noticed that Scott had given her a pus-flavored bean, most likely on purpose. He shot the boy the slightest of glances, gaining a 'shh!' signal and a grin.

"Christopher Wilde," he said. Kayla's face turned just as dark as Scott's had been only moments before now.

"He isn't," said Scott, "he's a Muggle-born!"

"Oh, good…" Kayla said, obviously relieved.

"What's the big deal with this Astor guy?" Chris asked, looking from Scott to Kayla.

"You don't know?" Kayla asked.

"Hello? Muggle-born?" Chris asked impatiently.

"Oh yeah… sorry. Astor Wilde… well, he was one of the Dark Wizards of the 70s… he was a really powerful wizard, but something made him snap, and well… he went and killed 300 people in one go. He's still on the run to this day…" Kayla bit her lip after she finished. Scott silently chewed a bean and looked at the caged owl, which was glaring back at him. There was a sudden jerk as the train began to move forward.

"Oh… well, yeah, that would explain things…" Chris muttered. The compartment door flew open for the third time that day, and Chris swore under his breath as a bang erupted. Confetti and paper shot everywhere, causing Thade to screech angrily.

"Hello, all!" said a voice from behind the blizzard of color. Two boys stood beyond the threshold, one holding a large party popper that was now empty. The other boy looked exactly like the first, and he was blowing a party horn that emitted a different animal noise every time he blew into it.

"Ready to celebrate?" asked the party-popper wielding boy, leaping into the room ecstatically. His twin followed suit and they sat, in unison, on either side of Scott.

"Where are your trunks?" Chris asked.

"Oh, damn…" the other twin muttered, "I knew we forgot something. I'll get them." He dashed out of the compartment and disappeared down the corridor.

"Who are you two?" Scott asked. The remaining twin grinned and shook his head wildly. His hair, which was dyed a bright green color, flew around madly.

"We're the Addelow Twins!" he said proudly, "I'm Dustin, and that's Martin."

"Hello," Martin said, hauling the two trunks into the room by himself. Dustin helped his brother store the luggage in the overhead rack and sat back down in unison, again. The other twin's hair was dyed a blazing red.

"I'm Christopher Wilde. And no, I'm not related to Astor Wilde," he added before they could interject.

"Wouldn't think so," Martin replied. "I don't believe he'd have time to do any 'mating' while he was escaping the law. Do you Dustin?"

"I don't, Martin," Dustin replied, immediately after Martin had finished his sentence.

"These two looked like I had just killed someone in front of them when I told them my name," Chris said, gesturing to the other two passengers.

"Well, bearing a name like Wilde, you might as well have," said Dustin. Martin nodded.

"Anyhow, I'm Kayla Gaines. It's, er… nice… to meet you," Kayla said, shaking hands with the twins. They smiled and shook hands with both of Scott's.

"I'm Scott Eston…" he muttered, stifling a chuckle. The twins sat back and began to juggle various objects between each other over Scott's head.

"So, we all first years here?" Martin asked, catching an orange rubber ball as he did.

"Yeah," Chris answered, watching this feat and becoming more amused the more annoyed Scott became.

"So Chris! What do you think of everything so far?" Kayla asked.

"What?" he asked, peeling his eyes off of the twins for a moment.

"You're a Muggle-born, right?" Kayla asked. The twins stopped their little stunt, much to Scott's relief, to watch the conversation. "I mean, how do you like all of the magic?"

"Oh… it's great… this Melbourne guy came to my house on my birthday and showed me all of this stuff…" said Chris, yawning sleepily. He had woken up very early to get to Gastello Hall, which was an hour or so from his home, on time.

"Oh, my brother says that Melbourne's the coolest teacher he's ever met! I can't wait to get to Charms!" Scott said excitedly. The twins smiled and began their juggling again, much to Scott's dismay. In fact, Chris thought he looked like he was about to cry.

"You're a Muggy?" Dustin asked.

"We don't discriminate," Martin continued.

"Yeah, we think they're better than pureblood wizards," said Dustin.

"In fact, we're half bloods ourselves," Martin said.

"Our mom's a Muggle. She was real excited when she found out our dad was a wizard. Which, coincidentally, was only three years ago," Dustin said.

"That's when we discovered our magic," Martin went on.

"Our dad came clean and our mom just flipped," said Dustin.

"Then he told her all about magic and Ascullis and stuff," said Martin.

"She was happy, then, and she couldn't wait to get us ready," said Dustin.

"Dad taught us about all of this fun magic stuff," Martin said.

"So, blame him if we annoy the living hell out of you!" Dustin finished, bouncing one of the balls of Scott's dreadlock-covered head.

"Wow, that's a neat story," Chris said, laughing as Scott snatched their juggling objects out of the air and yelled at them. Dustin sighed and Martin said, "Aw, you're no fun Scotty…"

"I s'pose," Dustin said happily. "Oh, did I forget to mention? The both of us are Metamorphmagi!"

"Really?" Kayla asked, looking really impressed.

"Yeah!" Martin said excitedly. "Only, we can't do it constantly when we're tired like we are now. So, you'll have to wait another hour or so to see us go at it. I know! We'll represent our house!"

"Good idea!" Dustin replied, high-fiving his twin.

"What's a Metamorphmagi?" Chris asked, looking at the twins curiously.

"We can change our appearance at will!" said Martin.

"Yeah. So, if you ever see two old ladies bickering at any time where there shouldn't be…" said Dustin, trailing off. The compartment was filled with laughter, and this continued for a long while, until finally, the sky was dark and Chris could see a vague shimmer in the distance through the window. He realized that it was moonlight reflected off the water. A PA system clicked on suddenly, causing the twins to look up from their harassing of Scott.

"_Attention students. We are nearing the lake, and we would like to suggest that you secure any belongings you would like to keep in its place. Oh, you should all buckle up too, just in case._"

Chris looked up at the ceiling in puzzlement. Scott pulled a seatbelt from beneath Martin, gaining a mocking look and a "Not on the first date, Scotty!" He buckled himself in, as did the twins and Kayla. Dustin reached over and fastened Thade, who was squawking nervously, into the seat.

"Thrill seeker, eh?" he asked Chris, looking at him in admiration. "You know what, why not?" Dustin threw his own buckle off and looked at Martin. "Here's looking at you, mate!"

"What's going on?" Christopher asked, looking at Dustin. Martin undid his safety belt as well.

"Oh, you don't know?" Martin asked.

"This should be fun, then!" said Dustin, shooting his twin a grin.

"What?" Chris asked anxiously.

"You'll see. Just sit." Martin continued to stare at Chris with that grin, occasionally shooting excited glances at his brother. Suddenly, Chris knew exactly what the two were talking about. Kayla shut her eyes and began to mutter something under her breath, and Scott tapped the armrests of his seat anxiously. He saw that there was something rising up the side of the window. It was darker than the sky was, and it was all one color: black. Then, something darted across the window, causing Chris to swear loudly. The twins chuckled.

"Well if you're scared of _that_…" Dustin said, shooting Martin a glance.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Sit. Wait," said Martin. Chris realized what was rising up the windows. They were plowing through the water, down towards the lakebed. He began to shake, but then he thought of something.

"If we're just going through water, why do we need to buckle up…?" Chris asked. The twins exchanged glances again.

"Now you're catching on," said Dustin. Suddenly, the train began to pick up speed. "Hold on tight, Chrissy darling!" Faster and faster… it was like a roller coaster… suddenly there was a sharp turn, then they began to slow down again and rise. There was a distantly familiar clicking noise as they rose… it _was_ a roller coaster. They reached the apex of the rise, the clicking stopped, and down they plunged. Chris felt the lifting sensation he got on all steep coaster drops, and just as they hit the bottom, it went into a loop. Chris hit his head on the luggage rack. The twins collided in midair and fell back onto Scott, who gave a sharp gasp of pain.

There was another slow ascension. Chris was panting heavily, yet he was excited and heavily awaiting the next drop. The three who had no buckles seated themselves again. At the top of this rise, however, there was no immediate drop. They had stopped moving. The PA system clicked on again.

"_Are you all prepared?_" it asked. A resounding yell of approval erupted from all down the train. "_Hold on tight or not at all!_' The train began to move again completing the arch over. Chris shot an excited grin at the twins, who returned it happily. The drop was so steep that it was actually straight down. Chris fell straight forward into Scott and the twins, who all grunted heavily. They hit the bottom of the drop and went straight into so many quick loops and corkscrews and they were going so fast, the three wizards actually floated in midair for several moments, doing several maneuvers that reminded Christopher of skydivers, and then the train went to a complete and sudden stop. The compartment door crashed open and Chris, along with the twins, was actually bowled out of the compartment and into the wall of the one across the corridor. Once he got a second to look around, he saw that a few other students were in the hall, but they hadn't hit the walls.

"Whoo hoo!" Chris yelled excitedly. The twins and him roared loudly in approval. The door to the compartment Chris was leaning against slid open and he fell over onto his back, staring straight up at the person who had opened it. A girl with long, flowing, silvery hair was staring straight down at him. Her eyes were a shimmering green color that reminded him of emeralds. "Hey…" he said quietly, holding out a hand in greeting. She grabbed it and pulled him up, shaking it once he was on his own supporting feet.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Amelia. Who are you three?"

"I'm Christopher Wilde… no relation to Astor Wilde," he added as her face began to shift, "and this is Dustin, and that's his twin brother Martin."

"Hello!" said Dustin, waving.

"How do you do?" asked Martin, leaning on Christopher's shoulder. Dustin tapped him on the shoulder, winked at him, and the two of them went back to their compartment.

"So, you're a thrill seeker?" she asked, looking at the floor where he had sat only moments before. He felt like making himself sound brave, so he conveniently forgot the part where he hadn't even known what was going to happen.

"Well, I figured I could stand to forget a few years of my life, so I said 'Why not?'" Chris smiled as Amelia giggled at his joke.

"That's funny," she said.

"Ah, those two are funnier than I am," he said, gesturing to the twins.

"Well, you're lucky that that's not all that matters, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. Before he could answer, she turned to her friends and politely shut the door.

"Yeah…" he muttered to himself, returning to his own compartment.

"So?" asked Dustin, looking at Chris eagerly. He shrugged in response.

"Aw, come on! What'd she say?" asked Martin.

"Not a lot… she just thought I was funny. Scott, you've been quiet," said Chris, quickly changing the subject.

"You haven't exactly been on Eston-friendly conversation," he replied, shrugging casually.

"We should put on our robes and get ready to head to the castle," said Kayla, standing up to get into her trunk. The others followed her and in moments they had pulled on their wizard attire and were ready to go. Chris pulled his trunk down from the rack and slid the door open, peering up and down the corridor. People were starting to shuffle down it noisily, making the hallway crowded and difficult to approach.

"Alright, we meet up outside then?" Scott asked, pulling his trunk down as well. "Don't forget your owl, Chris!" Scott threw the cage to Chris, who had completely forgotten about his companion in all of the excitement. It glared at him angrily, feeling neglected.

"Sorry, Thade…" he said, peering into the yellow eyes of the falcon/owl/thing. It clicked its beak reproachfully. Chris sighed.

"He'll get over it," Dustin said.

"Give 'im flowers!" said Martin.

"Always worked for our dad," continued Dustin.

"But then again, mom's a person, not a trippy eagowl," said Martin.

"True enough, my brother," said Dustin.

"Eagowl?" asked Chris.

"Well, it's an owl, but it looks like an eagle or something. I suppose you could use owlcon if you'd like, as well," explained Martin, smiling happily.

"That makes sense, thanks. Melbourne gave him to me, you know." Chris looked out the compartment door and saw the crowd thinning, so he seized his chance and broke out into the throng of exiting teenagers. Some were still really off-balance from the final leg of the journey. One older student behind him vomited loudly, firing off directly onto the shoes of a tall girl who was chatting with her friend as she walked. There was a scream and Chris advised his friends to duck and run as the hallway erupted with the crashing sounds of whatever the girl could get her hands on.


End file.
